Chaharshanbe Suri is Tuesday, March 14 this year. It has been a difficult year for Iranians. Still, through it all, we’ve also displayed those qualities—resilience and survival—that some see at this tradition’s very heart. Opinion by Nazanin Meshkat
It’s March 2021. My daughter holds a sparkler in her hand. She looks at it with amusement. Snowflakes dot her black toque. She looks cosy in her jacket and gloves. Her face and the sparkler both glow, giving colour to the rest of her body against the grey of an overcast evening.
The fire-jumping dates back thousands of years, to pagan and Zoroastrian celebrations. Some say it is in recognition of the resilience and survival of a people through a long winter inching close to its death. Others say that the fire is a connection to our ancestors, and an honouring of the dead. Once I was in Toronto, on my own and ricocheting through university, medical school, and residency, Chaharshanbe Suri faded into the haze of memory, displaced by the pragmatic hustle-bustle of life. I once jumped over a candle with some friends. Another year I went to a North York celebration in Mel Lastman Square, but to my disappointment there was no fire-jumping, at least the year I went. Eventually I gave it up.
In 2021, I set out to share the fire ceremony with her. I soon realized it was not an easy task in Toronto and surrounding areas. There are municipality and city bylaws that prevent it — and of course we were in the midst of a pandemic. I spoke about it with some friends, and one of them invited us to come up to their cottage and use their driveway.